Array Ashley: The Last Chapter

Breeze let her head rest against the chest of one of the rescuers as they began their descent down the mountain. Not once did she look back. She was eager for help, and expected to be rescued as soon as they finished their descent down the mountain. She was unprepared for the chaos that awaited her in the city of Port-au-Prince. Everything had been destroyed, and there were too many people to help and not enough relief to make a difference.

The men dropped Breeze off at a safety site that had been set up, and went on their way. It was a free for all; everyone was out for self, and the lack of organization gave her no one to turn to. She was left to fend for herself.

The safety site looked more like a demolition site to Breeze. Makeshift tents had been made out of sheets and spare fabric to cover some of the injured people being treated by the doctors. The chaos was overwhelming as Breeze surveyed the aftermath of the quake. Trapped atop the mountain with Ma’tee, she had no idea how big the earthquake really was.

The magnitude of its destruction was unimaginable. Everyone was displaced, everyone was injured, everyone needed help. This natural disaster had destroyed an entire nation of people, so much so that even the organizations that had come to help did not know where to start.

Breeze had been one of the lucky ones. She had made it out of the rubble. She was cut badly, bruised beyond belief, and starving for nutrition, but she was alive, and as she looked around sadly at all of the dead bodies, she realized how grateful she was.

When the circulation finally came back to her legs, she walked aimlessly, trying not to stare at the lost children who walked the streets, many in search of parents they would never find. Their cries made her cringe because she knew exactly how it felt to be ripped from those you love.

American camera crews recorded the horrendous tragedy, and even CNN’s Anderson Cooper reported live in an attempt to display what was happening to the world. Haiti had been impoverished for years, but the earthquake had put the international spotlight on the black nation.

Breeze was dumbfounded because although America was reporting on the situation, she never saw one reporter put down their microphones to assist or offer help. When the little red lights of their camera came on and the crew was filming, they were engaged and sympathetic, but when it came down to actually contributing to humanity, they all recoiled selfishly. As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, their concern for the earthquake victims dwindled, proving to Breeze that it was all for show. There were people dying around them, and all they cared about was the story.

She was in desperate need of medical attention, sustaining not only injuries from the quake, but also injuries from being raped by Ma’tee. She was physically, psychologically, and emotionally troubled, but as she looked around her, she realized that that was not only her story, but the story of so many others as well.

There was no food, no water, no relief whatsoever, and Haitian citizens were beginning to get restless. Breeze watched as gangs of individuals looted whatever places were still standing in attempts to find supplies and food. The scarcity of resources was making everyone desperate, and as Breeze noticed a fruit truck being looted, she could not stop herself from following suit. The hunger pangs shooting through her stomach justified her actions as she ran over to the truck and pushed her way to the front to grab her share. After filling her hands with four large oranges, she attempted to run, but was stopped by a woman who was fighting to snatch the fruit from Breeze.

“No,” Breeze protested as she pushed the woman off of her violently. She ran away from the scene and found an empty cot near the safety site. She collapsed as she tore open the fruit and sucked the juices from the inside. She resembled an animal as she ate ravenously, keeping her eyes up as she guarded the only meal she had received in days.

Her heart tore in half when she saw a little girl eyeing her desperately. Breeze knew that her soul had disappeared when she shouted, “What the hell are you looking at? I don’t have anything for you!”

It was then that she realized that Ma’tee really had turned her soul black. Before landing in his company, she had been selfless and giving. Even amongst the worst of predicaments Breeze had always maintained a good heart.

Guilt plagued her as she looked down at the three other pieces of fruit she had stolen. “Here,” she said to the small child as she held out an orange for the girl. The little girl’s eyes lit up as she thankfully took the fruit.

They sat eating the meager meal together as if it would be their last. Breeze did not know what her next move would be. Waiting would be like torture, but she had no other choice. She didn’t know if she was waiting to live or waiting to die; she only hoped that a resolution would eventually come.

Mecca sat back in the large meeting room of the Diamond family mansion. Pretty soon it would belong to someone else. Mecca had put the beautiful property up for sale. It was too hot, and now it was time to rebuild the Diamond legacy somewhere else. Everything had been cleared out except for this one room.

He closed his eyes as his mind drifted back to the days when his father used to hold court for his head lieutenants in that very space. It seemed that his father had run things so smoothly. The Cartel of today was a far cry from the organized crime family his father had started. Now everything around them was chaos, and with Young Carter in jail, Mecca was unsure if he could fill the shoes of the leader and effectively run The Cartel.

It was no longer a family operation. Only one Diamond was left standing, and although Carter was his half-brother, it wasn’t the same. They had suffered too many casualties, and loyalty was a rarity nowadays. His father had ruled with love, whereas now Carter, Mecca, and Zyir were holding down their spot in the streets with fear.

With the spotlight of the feds shining on them, nobody wanted to deal to closely with The Cartel. The streets were talking, and word was out that Carter just might lose his case. Niggas from the bottom to the top were shook, including their coke supplier.

The sound of the foyer door opening snapped him out of his reverie, and he stood to welcome Zyir.

“What’s good, fam?” Zyir greeted as he embraced Mecca briefly.

“You tell me. How’s that paper looking?” Mecca asked.

As The Cartel’s most trusted lieutenant, Zyir’s ear was glued to the street. There was nothing that got by him. Mecca had been forced to lay low because of his beef with Emilio Estes, so it was up to Zyir to ensure that their presence remained known in the streets.

“Shit is slow. Carter’s case got everybody running scared. The connect ain’t fucking with us because we got that federal eye in the sky on us, nah mean?”

“What about the niggas that owe us money?” Mecca asked irritably. It seemed as if everything they had built was now on the downfall.

“Oh, I got that cake… believe that. Ain’t nobody skipping out on the bill, but nobody’s re-upping. It’s like niggas is cutting ties. Nobody wants to be associated with a sinking ship. Niggas only loyal when the getting is good. I mean, we still got a few men who standing tall, but I ain’t gon’ lie. Shit ain’t sweet,” Zyir informed. “With everything seized, that shoebox money running real low. Carter’s lawyer expecting another payment today, and even my stash is hurting.”

Mecca knew that things would get tight for everybody with Carter locked up. The government had frozen all of their legitimate accounts; even Diamond Realty profits could not be touched until a resolution to Carter’s case was reached. Everyone, including Mecca, was living temporarily off of whatever money had flown under the radar; but random money that had been stashed in safes wasn’t enough for men who spent it as if it grew on trees. Between the two of them, they had a little over a million dollars, but with Carter’s case eating into their finances and a paranoid cocaine connection, that large sum of petty cash was dwindling by the day.